


saintly

by jessamoo



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 17:56:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessamoo/pseuds/jessamoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for the prompt "People won't stop propositioning Kenna because she was the king's mistress"</p>
            </blockquote>





	saintly

When she was with Bash, in their quarters, snuggled under blankets as the light streamed in – staying in bed for hours despite their duties – Kenna felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

She could pretend sometimes. She could concentrate on her husband’s long fingers moving through her hair, over her shoulders, and she could pretend that touch, the place where his skin met hers, was the single point the world turned on. 

But then he would leave to go about his day, and the bed would feel cold and too large without him. 

 

When Kenna would walk the halls, she held her head high with a confidence she didn’t feel. She would hear the whispers that still followed her like dogs at her heels. She would see women quickly avert their gazes, men leering at her. She had always been used to attention, but whereas she used to welcome it, see it as a compliment in her naivety, but now she shied away from it. She saw it for what it was – no compliment at all. The opposite in fact. No matter what she did she would not escape from the shadow of once being mistress to the king.

She would rush to the window with her back to them, breathing heavily. Then, as her fingers stretched over and gripped the stone, she would see the rings glinting against her skin. Bash would float back into her mind, the way his eyes looked at her like she was saintly. Then she would remember why she endured all of this. Bash needed her too. She was his wife, the wife of the king’s deputy, the king’s brother. She was almost royal. Bash thought she was more than how they saw her, more than a king’s whore. When she was with him she felt like she could be. And she needed to remember that. So Kenna would square her shoulders and carry on.

 

One night there was a huge ball held at court. She and Bash had danced, breathless and excited. She loved when he let go of his inhibitions – he told her it was something she brought out in him, some playful spirit that came alive with her. And she believed him, she saw the light in his eyes when he was with her.

They had been interrupted by a huge crash coming from outside on the corridor. Everything had gone silent as guards, and Bash, rushed to see what was happening. He had placed a hand out to hold her in place as he’d moved past her – but she had followed him anyway. 

A group of thieves had taken advantage of the chaos and extra food in the kitchens and seen fit to help themselves. France was only just getting over the worst of its famine. Bash had been railing against all the money that had been spent for tonight, and now he had been proved right in his resentment. He went after the thieves that had escaped, disappearing into the night like some kind of noble knight. She saw him glance back at her, just once, before he did so. As if entering the cold and darkness outside of the castle was to enter a world apart from her.

 

Kenna found an empty corridor to wait in. she could see the path Bash would have followed toward the wood from here and so she would be able to see him come back. She wouldn’t normally have just waited like a good little wife for her husband to come back – but the looks the drunken men in the hall had been sending her way had made her uneasy. She could have stayed near Mary or Greer (Lola had retired early to be with the baby) but she would have been third wheeling, and she didn’t think she could handle that either.

She didn’t want to burden either of her friends with the idea that she was being leered at. She knew they had their own problems that were much bigger than hers. And though they never said so, she sometimes wondered if they thought it was her own fault. They saw her that way because she had been a mistress. Sometimes she blamed herself too. Sometimes she thought she deserved it.

But Bash had told her it wasn’t her fault. He had seen past all that and so would they. They should have known how persuasive his father had been, how he controlled people. Everyone was powerless when it came to him. Kenna had just been another pawn in his twisted games, and she was not to blame for it. She wanted to believe her husband. Truly, she did. But sometimes when so many people disagreed with him, she wondered if he was the one that was wrong in his thinking. She didn’t tell him most of the things people still said about her, she knew it would upset him. But she knew he must hear some of it himself.

 

She wrapped her arms around herself from the cold. Her sleeves were made of a fine lace that did nothing to keep out the chill.

“It’s a cold night is it not?” a voice calls to her.

Kenna spins to see a shadowy figure entering the deserted little corridor.

 

A male figure steps out into the light from the burning torches. The flames give a sinister shadow to his face and she shrinks back a little.

She had seen this man looking at her in the hall. He was the distant cousin of a noble man at court. Tall and imposing in a beastly way, his shoulders too large against the material of his deep blue coat. He had a shock of salt and pepper grey hair slicked back. She could see why in the light he might be good looking, with sharp high features. But here, in the dark, his deep set eyes and strong nose looked like the jutting shards of a mountain – rough and uninviting.

Kenna holds her hands in front of her, carefully positioning them in a way that meant the man must have seen her wedding ring. He appeared not to notice however and kept advancing on her. Kenna cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Yes I suppose it is rather. I should probably go back inside before I catch a chill.”

She tries to step around the man, but he easily glides in front of her blocking her exit. She stills again hesitantly, looking around her for anyone else. Unsurprisingly, she sees no one.

“You don’t have to go right away, now do you? We can keep each other warm. Your husband won’t be back yet.” He grins wolfishly down at her, and she is sickened.

“My husband.” she snaps back. “The king’s deputy. I doubt he would take too kindly to you keeping me here.”

The man looks down at her in amusement, like she hadn’t said a word.

 

Kenna remembers the way Bash had looked at her when he had seen her tonight. She was dressed in fine shimmering gold, lace sleeves revealing small patterns of soft skin. Her neckline dipped low, a fine necklace dripping round her neck like honey, accentuating her collar bone. Her warm brown hair tumbled all around her like water running down her back. He had looked at her like she was a dream, like a golden and ivory statue carved just for him. Bash never had to say he loved her again if he looked at her like that, she thought. He looked at her like she was impossible and holy.

That was not how this man looked at her. He was looking at her like he was taking stock of her. Like she was come kind of exotic animal in a cage. His eyes travelled up her body, devouring her violently. The flash in his eyes at the site of her low neckline, her cleavage heaving slightly as fear over took her, might as well have been a swing of a sword.

Quickly Kenna tried to dive past him, but he grabbed her arm expertly and pulled her back, pushing her roughly against the sill of high windows. She lets out a yelp and pushes back against him, but he is too strong for her.

“let go of me!” she yells loudly, and she gasps, about to scream but she is cut off as he presses his mouth harshly against hers.

She brings her fist up and tries to knock his face away but he grabs that too, as easily as taking a child's hand.

“Now, no need for all that. its not like you haven’t done this before.” The man breathes, his hand travelling downwards. “I know who you are.”

“I am – ugh! – I am the wife of –“ Her voice is shaky as she tries to reply, all the while pushing and squirming to get free.

“You are the king’s mistress. Come on, you’ll like it.” He snarls, his hands fumbling in her skirts.

Kenna feels a sudden, blinding rage replace her fear. He flings her knee up and it connects with his stomach. It isn’t the impact the staggers him, but the fact he hadn’t expected it. As he loosens his grip on her for just a moment, she lashes out and scratches his face.

The man turns purple with rage, he now looks dishevelled and the anger on his face is positively murderous. Kenna sees him pull a large hand back, but she doesn’t have time to think before it connects with her face.

She stumbles trying to grab the wall for support. He begins to reach to lift her back up to him, but the way she had fallen to the side meant that she had been dislodged from where he had pinned her against the wall with his body. Noticing this quickly, with a sudden clarity that came with the shock of the blow, she sprang forward, almost tripping over the hem of her dress.

Before he can lunge for her, Kenna grabs one of the heavy torches burning on the walls.

She almost can’t lift it, it weighs her arms down so much. But she holds it out in front of her with both shaking hands. She doesn’t know how long she can hold it for, but the stinging of her lip and the taste of blood in her mouth tells her she has to.

A feral smile breaks over the man’s face and he moves forward, but she swings the torch at him and he steps back again, looking for some point of entry.

“I am the wife of the king’s deputy.” She growls in a ragged voice. “I am lady to the queen of France...I am a lady of Scotland. And you will not touch me.” She begins to move away as she speaks, retreating down the corridor, keeping her scowling eyes trained on him.

“Kenna!”

She hears him bark her name in his familiar voice then, and she spins wildly, confusedly, until she sees him.

Bash is running toward her through the corridor, sword in hand, a frown of anger and concern on his face.

Kenna lets out a helpless cry of relief, dropping the torch with a heavy crash on the ground. Only then do tears cloud her eyes as she rushes to meet him.

She crashes into him, crying his name, as her arms wrap around his shoulders. He moves her slightly, one arm wrapped around her drawing her protectively to the side, the other pointing his sword at the man who had attacked her.

She watches the man try to turn and leave only to be greeted by guards behind him. He puts his hands up in surrender.

Bash looks down at Kenna worriedly, pressing the hand that had held her waist to her flushed cheek, his thumb lightly grazing the cut on her lip. The streak of blood is so violent to him against her unblemished skin that she sees him grips his sword even tighter. The man in the blue jacket looks at the blade warily, seeing the rage in Bash’s eyes.

“How dare you think you can assault my wife.” He fumes. The low fury in his voice is far more terrifying than if he had shouted.

“There has been a mistake I assure you sir.” The man placated and Kenna rolls her eyes emotionally.

“I thought…she was the previous king’s mistress and I thought…” the man looks up at Kenna with undisguised hatred. He knew there was no way to get out of this. 

she wonders how many times he had gotten away with this on other women and feels bile in her throat at the thought.

“Once a whore always a whore.” He spits, giving up the attempt of reasoning with them.

Bash steps forward without a thought and deftly turns his sword, hitting the man across the face with the hilt. Blood hit the tiles in front of the man as he sank to his knees.

“Say one more word against my wife.” He whispers. He moves his sword to rest against the man's throat in warning. 

When the man doesn’t reply Bash looks at him in utter disgust. He nods to the guards, who move to take the man away.

 

Kenna watches the man retreat and places a trembling hand against the wound on her lip.

“Let me see.” Bash mutters in a gentle voice, sheathing his sword and moving toward her.

He wipes at her lip with his thumb softly, taking her face in both his hands. 

Kenna blinks a few stray tears away, looking down sadly until he lifts her face up to meet his.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner.” He whispers. The look on his face is horribly guilty and she knows he is hurting for her.

She shakes her head in reassurance but can’t assure him she is fine. “What he said…that’s why people think they can hurt me.” Her voice breaks into a shallow gasp of tears.

Bash shakes his head and presses his forehead against hers, shushing her, trying to comfort her. When she is breathing more easily he pulls away to stare into her eyes.

“No one is allowed to hurt you. I won’t let them. You won’t let them. I saw you swinging that torch like a fierce, Celtic warrior woman.” He nudges her slightly trying to get her to smile.

She gives him a small, barely there smile but can’t quite meet his eyes. When he sees she is still thinking about the man’s words he carries on in a more serious tone.

“And you are no one’s mistress. You are only mine in the sense that I belong to you completely. You are mistress of my heart…and a very good, very brave wife.”

Kenna does smile properly at him then. He was the only one that knew how to comfort her properly. She rests her head against his shoulder and he holds her close to him with his arms wrapped tightly around her. She presses her face to his chest and he strokes her hair slowly and gently.

“You wouldn’t rather have a wife who hadn’t belonged to someone else?”

Bash pulls away from her then with a frown on his face. “You never belonged to my father. You only belong to yourself and whoever you choose to belong to.” He tells her seriously.

She nods, accepting his words. Then she stands up on her tip toes. “In that case, I choose to only ever belong to myself, and to you. My brave husband.” she smiles, and she rubs their noses together playfully before kissing him.

 

From then on, no one dared to whisper about her. Or at least, not where she could hear them. People would always gossip, but men were careful around her and a little more respectful. She had thought it was because word of how Bash had threatened her aggressor. However Lola dutifully informed her that it wasn’t just because of that. It was because they had all somehow heard of how she had apparently almost killed someone with a torch. Lola had sounded very proud of her, and Kenna had laughed loudly, feeling rather proud of herself for once.

She knew she would never fully escape what people thought of her. But she was beginning to learn not to care. She knew she could choose who she was and who she loved. She knew that more than she had ever known it before. And she didn’t have to pretend the world outside of where she lived with Bash didn’t exist – because Bash was a permanent fixture within her now. He wasn’t just her husband, her friend, her protector. He was the idea that kept her head high. The way he saw her was how she wanted to see herself.

Good, and clean, and untainted.


End file.
